The hum of voices never filled the cafeteria at noon, yet today it pulsed with a strange life. Mary sat at the long table closest to the windows, tracing circles on her tray with a cracked plastic spoon. Sunlight streamed through the tall glass panes, throwing sharp geometric shadows across the floor and lighting sparks against the chrome fixtures.

She had lingered after study hall, gathering her thoughts while the room echoed hollow. The serving line gleamed, trays stacked in perfect unevenness, and the faint aroma of metal and detergent drifted through the air.

A hollow clatter seemed to come from deep inside the vents, breaking the silence. Then she saw him in the strange light, a boy she had never seen, standing by the milk dispenser. His blazer was dirty blue, faded as if from another decade. When he turned, his eyes flickered green.

Mary waited. 

He did not. Raising a finger, he pointed to the clock above the exit. The hands spun backward. Slowly at first, then faster, until the ticking filled her ears, louder than her own heartbeat.

The spoon tumbled from her hand, rolling in a perfect arc toward the drain behind the counter. When it stopped, the cafeteria was empty again. Only the paired scents of sunlight and bleach remained, and the clock above the door read noon.